


My Debt Is Repaid

by The_Bentley



Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Battlefield, Blood and Injury, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Healing, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Major Character Injury, Mesopotamia, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: “Thank you, angel.”  A weak hand was raised to touch Aziraphale’s cheek.“No need for that.  You saved me first.  Just rest,” he replied.  “I’ve warded this place so no mortals can find or enter it.  You’re safe.”During a war somewhere in ancient Mesopotamia, Aziraphale was sent to inspire an army in battle, not realizing what danger he is in until Crawly saves him at great personal cost.CW: Blood. I decided against the Graphic Depictions of Violence warning because there's no real description of graphic violence, per se.  What is described is injuries and the healing of them.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861126
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	My Debt Is Repaid

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses Bingo Prompt: Accidental Brushes

“Aziraphale? What are you doing here?” Crawly demanded when he saw the angel burning bright, wings out, leading the opposing troops on.

Moving quicker than a snake striking, he grabbed Aziraphale, gliding over on sleek black wings to knock him off the battlefield. The armies would do fine without the immortals’ interventions. They had done what rallying they could. Neither Heaven nor Hell allowed them direct interference.

“I was sent . . .” replied Aziraphale wondering why there was such fear in Crawly’s voice. He picked himself up, brushing the dirt off his white robes.

“You shouldn’t be here! There are angel hunters here. Do you realize what danger you’re in?” The whoosh of the golden spears was barely audible, but Crawly heard it plain as anything. “NO!”

Aziraphale felt himself tumbling backwards, his head hitting the rock hard enough he saw stars. But that wasn’t the worst of what he was going to see. Crouching above him was Crawly, three golden spears with bloodied points sticking out of his chest, serpentine eyes glazing over with the pain. Aziraphale’s hand flew to his mouth as blood dripped off the demon’s chest onto his robes, staining the white fabric crimson. 

“Crawly!”

Approaching them quickly were three human men dressed in dark blue tunics and coats, armed with weapons meant to incapacitate an angel. Determined expressions were set on their faces. There was a messenger of God here, and they were going to capture him. Aziraphale gasped, staring over Crawly’s shoulder, but they vanished from the battlefield with a concentrated surge of Crawly’s demonic power as the demon looked behind him with torturous effort. He was in too much pain to know where he sent them, nor did he particularly care.

Crawly coughed up blood and collapsed on to his side. Sliding out from under him, Aziraphale hauled him up to his feet the best he could, half-carrying, half-dragging the demon out of the humans’ line of sight. 

“Come on, Crawly. You can do this. Just a bit further then we’ll be hidden. There you go.”

Supported by Aziraphale’s shoulder, Crawly stumbled along beside him, weak, blood dripping from his wounds as well as off his chin. He could feel his life force starting to slip away from his body; his molecules were beginning to unravel as discorporation slunk closer. With a jerk his breathing stopped, his body falling to the ground.

“Stay with me, Crawly. This is no time for a holiday Downstairs. You just lost a body. They’ll be angry with you.” Aziraphale poured what healing power he could into his friend. “Breathe, Crawly. Please. . .”

The gasp of breath was the most blessed sound Aziraphale had heard. Scooping up Crawly quickly, he took to the air, flying them leagues away from the fighting to a quiet oasis nestled in the desert. He laid his friend down on his side on the soft grass at the base of a tree, continuing the healing while he examined the spears.

“Are they magical?” he asked.

Crawly shook his head. 

“All right. I’m sorry, my dear, but this is really going to hurt. Ready?”

Swiftly, he pulled one out, Crawly shuddering with agony as a breathy sound escaped him, followed by silence. It had passed through his neck, exiting at the hollow of his throat; the hole left made speech impossible now. Aziraphale ignored the blood pouring from the wound, planting both hands firmly over it and healing with all the power he had at his disposal. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour passed before the wound was closed.

Dizzy, he took a moment to rest. Propping himself up against the tree beside Crawly, he panted his apologies to the demon who stared glassily back at him. He could afford to take a moment to regain his strength. Crawly, on the other hand, couldn’t afford him making mistakes if he was to avoid explaining why he needed yet another new body. It took about ten minutes of rest before he had the strength to tackle the next spear, which had punctured a lung. Crawly convulsed with a tortured drawn-out whine as the second spear was pulled from him and tossed aside. 

“Hold still if you can,” Aziraphale encouraged. “Give me some time to heal it.”

Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour. A bit of time to recover healing power.

“All right,” said the angel. “Last one. Ready?”

The holes in his lungs healed, Crawly now screamed in agony, arching his back as the third one came out. Robe sleeves dyed red with the demon’s blood, Aziraphale patiently kept his hand firmly in place. Waiting. Watching the wound knit itself closed. Exhausted, Aziraphale propped himself against the tree again then gently pulled Crawly’s head into his lap. Smiling up at him, Crawly blinked drowsily, the wounds and healing having taken a toll on his body. Feeling drained by his work, Aziraphale caressed that long, fiery red hair in relief, leaning forward to place a kiss on the demon’s lips.

“Thank you, angel.” A weak hand was raised to touch Aziraphale’s cheek.

“No need for that. You saved me first. Just rest,” he replied. “I’ve warded this place, so no mortals can find or enter it. You’re safe.”

Aziraphale kept watch even though it wasn’t needed, stroking Crawly’s long, red hair while he softly sang him a song from Heaven, one that spoke of rest and healing. Slowly Crawly’s eyelids became heavy, eventually staying shut as his breathing slowed. Aziraphale would allow him to rest there until morning then keep him in the oasis for two more days, determined to hold him in this place of healing until he knew Crawly was completely well. They spent most of their time side-by-side recuperating under the tree, exchanging stories of their adventures to pass the hours.

Finally, after two days of watchfulness, Aziraphale succumbed to the loss of power from the intense healing he did on Crawly, falling into a light doze beneath the tree. He was sure Crawly was deep asleep on his lap when the lightest of touches brushed past his elbow. Only because he possessed the instincts of an angelic warrior did he feel such a minute touch as Crawly tried to escape from his care. Aziraphale’s blue eyes flew open to catch the demon, who was embarrassed to make such an amateur mistake as an accidental touch.

“I have to go, angel. I’ve been summoned.”

Aziraphale nodded, understanding. “Allow me a chance to say goodbye, at least?”

The sun red on the horizon, they stood beneath the trees reluctant to part even if it was out of necessity. They said their farewells, Crawly tipping Aziraphale’s chin upwards to place thankful kisses on his lips. It wouldn’t be long before they met up again. It never was, but that knowledge still didn’t temper the bittersweet feelings they felt upon parting. 


End file.
